


anything

by avoidfilledwithcelluloid



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 14:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11625084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidfilledwithcelluloid/pseuds/avoidfilledwithcelluloid
Summary: "Perhaps it was wrong to make a home out of a person, to carve himself a hole to fit in, but Anakin couldn’t live outside Obi-Wan. They were together— never apart. A single person separated only by the physical self. How could he ever let go when their bodies had swallowed each other?"





	anything

**Author's Note:**

> ahahhahahaaaa i just got sick of looking at this in my drafts. i've been working on it for weeks. but i'm happy to give it to you, my sweet and amazing jellyfishs, as a big dumb fic present. if you love this fic, leave a comment. if you hate it, also leave a comment. if you feel neutral, maybe leave a comment as well. i feed on comments like a little burrow mouse feeds on wood shavings  
> (i hv no idea if burrow mouses are even a thing or if they eat wood shavings)  
> (sorry)

Two fingers pulled the skin on his thigh taut and Anakin squeezed his eyes shut. A thin prick made him flinch but Obi-Wan kept him steady. Quickly, he pushed down the plunger and testosterone sank into Anakin’s muscle. Focused on the warmth of Obi-Wan’s left hand on his knee, Anakin distanced himself from the clinical operation which occupied his right hand.

“Almost done?”

“Nearly there,” Obi-Wan said. “Have patience. Try to clear your mind.”

 _Impossible_ , Anakin thought. A shadow of fear plagued him like a thin sheet thrown over a sleeping body. Then, as simply as it had started, the shot was over and Obi-Wan removed the needle. Peeking one eye open, Anakin relaxed as Obi-wan tossed the syringe into their sharps container. Both eyes now open, he rubbed the injection site. There was a little soreness but nothing debilitating.

“You’re all done,” Obi-Wan used Anakin’s knee to as leverage to stand up. The pressure was felt through Anakin’s entire body which delighted, unfortunately, at being useful.

“Good.” Anakin stood up himself, pulled his pants back up, and followed Obi-Wan out. They diverged paths as Obi-Wan went to the kitchen and Anakin traipsed into the living room. Walking the perimeter of it, he touched everything he saw in the room.

Obi-Wan’s apartment wasn’t the Spartan sanctuary which Anakin had always imagined it to be. Instead, there was evidence of life in every corner. There were books in many different languages which, when Anakin picked them up and fingered their spines, all felt uniquely heavy. Their contents went on too long for Anakin to even try to read but he liked to hold them. Their weight was a reminder of all the knowledge rattling around in Obi-Wan—all the knowledge which existed in the whole world.

There were also trinkets: small, unobtrusive pieces of crystal and rock taken from various planets they’d visited in what Anakin thought must’ve been a moment of whimsy on Obi-Wan’s part. This collection of artifacts was still a mystery to him but he’d never mentioned his confusion to Obi-Wan. That might’ve ruined the thrill of the secret, the hidden meaning. Anakin, all evidence to the contrary, enjoyed having a little bit of Obi-Wan obscured to him so that—when the truth revealed itself—he’d be wonderfully surprised.

Back turned to the kitchen as he fiddled with Obi-Wan’s belongings, he heard the whistle of the kettle clear as an engine starting up. Tea. After every shot, Obi-Wan made them both tea and the event of it all made Anakin feel as though he were a special guest. Perhaps this is why Obi-Wan made such a ceremony of making tea: to fill Anakin’s hunger to be special. And what a hunger it was. It grew inside him, roaring so loud it shook his guts like a bantha in a china shop.

Obi-Wan came into the living room holding two mugs— one shaped like an Ewok’s head and the other colored half red, half blue— and handed Anakin the Ewok one. He crinkled his nose at the sight of the little creature’s face. Obi-Wan grinned at him over his own mug.

“You always give me this one,” Anakin complained.

“Are you going to put my things back in their place?” Obi-Wan said, side-stepping the indignation in Anakin’s voice. “Or do you plan to rearrange them as usual?”

“I thought you might like them reorganized.” Anakin put the pink crystal he’d been rolling around in his hand back on the shelf. “You should shake things up every once in a while, Master. Isn’t that why you keep me around?”

“It certainly isn’t for conversation,” Obi-Wan said and turned toward the couch before Anakin could give him an angry look. He settled into the corner seat, the only seat he ever took and gestured to the place next to him. In his Jedi robes, Obi-Wan still carried an air of peace about him but, sunken into the couch cushion, his peace became softer. Anakin preferred having Obi-Wan this way: a foil to the sharpness lodged forever in Anakin’s throat. He took a sip of tea and blanched, tongue completely burnt.

Nursing his scorched mouth, Anakin took a seat and leaned back. A lull of silence, not entirely unpleasant, fell over the both of them while his tea cooled against his palms. All that remained for noise was the subtle tick of Obi-Wan’s clock, a nice dura-plastic thing that Padme had given him as a birthday gift. She was very practical with gifts. Anakin had pooled together a small amount of his savings and bought Obi-Wan a new journal. The leather tome sat, papers askew, on the third shelf. Looking at it made him feel a questionable amount of emotions— all of which Obi-Wan would shake his head at— but the most prominent was pride.

He’d been so proud when he handed the journal over, as though he were bestowing a crown of treasured jewels. Maybe the little book was a little worn, maybe he’d left some smudges on the pages, but it was still perfect. Every credit had been worth it to see Obi-Wan open the package.

“Are you feeling alright?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin shook his head. Slowly, his tongue was beginning to numb over.

“I’m just tired,” he said. “That last battle, uh, took it out of me.”

“Hm.” Obi-Wan set his mug down on the floor, nearly empty, and put his hand on Anakin’s knee. His stomach flipped over like a coin falling through the air.

“If you want,” he said, “you can sleep here tonight.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Anakin slept at Obi-Wan’s; there was no way it would be the last. Yet, something in him always waited for permission. The need to follow Obi-Wan’s lead stayed like a ghost haunting every interaction Anakin had with him. So he nodded in acknowledgment but let his mind begin to wander down other hallways. All of them were filled with thoughts of Obi-Wan—the warmth of his touch, the way he sat so close, the curves of his auburn hair. An ocean of attraction, very familiar to Anakin, flooded him.

“I’d like that.” Obi-Wan smiled and within Anakin emotional waters fought each other into waves. “Master. Can I ask a question?”

“You don’t need my permission to ask a question.”

“Can I kiss you?”

A moment of silence passed, thick and sharp, and Obi-Wan’s gaze met Anakin’s. He nodded. Anakin tilted his head and scooted close to Obi-Wan, head leaned forward until their lips met in the middle. The kiss was brief, just a taste before Anakin pulled back. He’d flushed pink, embarrassed to even have taken the chance, but Obi-Wan’s eyes were still closed. His mouth hung open with wet lips. He opened his eyes and looked up at Anakin.

“Come here,” he said. He patted his lap and Anakin scrambled to climb over him. In his haste, he knocked over his Ewok cup and spilled tea on the floor.

“Be careful, Anakin.”

“Sorry.”

Anakin slid down into Obi-Wan’s lap, the bottom of his thighs touching the tops of Obi-Wan’s. His sides ached a moment when he bent over, binder just a little too tight, but he couldn’t stop himself. Hands on the sides of his face, Obi-Wan leaned up into Anakin’s space and their lips brushed. Anakin opened his mouth, tentative, and closed the gap between them.

The kiss was like no other he’d experienced. Before, when he kissed Padme, a kiss felt like he was coming home, like discovery, and was brand new every time. But with Obi-Wan, everything was completely different; kissing Obi-Wan felt like he was already home, that he’d never left in the first place. There was no need to search or discover while kissing him when Obi-Wan’s hands already knew Anakin’s with the familiarity of a favorite book. A rush of satisfaction was all that came to him while his tongue slipped inside Obi-Wan’s mouth and collided with the other man’s.

Perhaps it was wrong to make a home out of a person, to carve himself a hole to fit in, but Anakin couldn’t live outside Obi-Wan. They were together— never apart. A single person separated only by the physical self. How could he ever let go when their bodies had swallowed each other?

One of Obi-Wan’s hands moved from Anakin’s cheek to the back of his head and tangled into his hair. He pulled and Anakin moaned into their kiss. Obi-Wan tugged harder to break their kiss. With Anakin’s neck arched from the fingers that gripped his hair, Obi-Wan mouthed at the thin skin there. His breath was a secret, another piece of him Anakin took hold of with every nerve ending that sparked as Obi-Wan sucked hickeys across his flesh.

Around them, the Force was heavy. It poured over their shoulders to coat them furiously in its embrace. Skin lit up like a ship’s dashboard under attack, Anakin took hold of the hand still on his cheek and pulled it over to his hip. Obi-Wan’s fingers dug into his flesh until it grew white around the edges. He let go of Anakin’s hair to lay his palm flat on Anakin’s stomach. Dragging downward against rough fabric, Obi-Wan’s hand traveled until it stopped at Anakin’s belt. The tremors of his hand echoed across the valleys of Anakin.

Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin, mouth open around a question, and was met with a kiss instead. Scrambling fingers tripping over themselves, Anakin removed his belt and threw it across the floor. He hunched in closer. All he wanted was more to taste, more to hold, more to touch and be touched by. Hungry, Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand by the wrist and thrust it down between his legs.

“Touch me,” he said. “Touch me, please.”

“Anything,” Obi-Wan replied. He didn’t pull back from their kiss as he undid the Anakin’s pants and slipped his hand inside. The feeling of Obi-Wan’s palm cupping his already wet cunt dragged groans from Anakin. He bucked his hips in an effort to create friction but Obi-Wan’s hand on his hip stayed the motion.

Anakin whined, struggling against Obi-Wan’s tight hold on him, but his efforts weakened as a thumb rubbed against his clit. Cautious circles shook the already unsteady ocean within him. Obi-Wan moved slowly, one finger slipping between Anakin’s labia to stroke against his opening. Thumb still pressed against his clit, Obi-Wan worked a finger inside Anakin, who hummed deliriously into Obi-Wan’s mouth. Words couldn’t form on his tongue but sound did. Body set ablaze, he rocked his hips into the movements of Obi-Wan’s hand.

“Is this good?” Obi-Wan asked. His voice rattled with bare insecurity. Anakin kissed the corner of his mouth, then dragged his lips against Obi-Wan’s cheek until he reached his ear. In a low, deliberate whisper, he choked out the few words left in his vocabulary.

“Perfect,” he said. “It’s perfect.”

Another finger tucked itself inside him and Anakin breathed his moans straight into Obi-Wan’s ear. Under his hands, Obi-Wan shivered with every sound Anakin made. He kneaded the flesh at Anakin’s hip. His motions sped up until pressure squeezed Anakin’s stomach and all at once a great flare went off behind his eyes. Quaking, Anakin tightened around Obi-Wan and laced his fingers into the hair at the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. As though clinging to a lifeboat, he surrounded Obi-Wan.

Sweat licked every part of him and Anakin felt all the layers of fabric that separated him from Obi-Wan’s skin as though he were standing in front of walls. Still pressed inside him, Obi-Wan slipped his fingers out with one last rub to Anakin’s overly sensitive clit. He jumped at the sensation and knocked Obi-Wan on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said. His fingertips shone glossy in warm orange light. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Try harder next time,” Anakin said.

The Force burst in great colors whenever Anakin opened his eyes. He closed them to nuzzle into Obi-Wan’s neck and trailed kisses there. Heartbeat rapid like someone knocking urgently on the door to his chest, Anakin inhaled and exhaled in long stretches. Arms came up around him and held him tight to Obi-Wan’s chest.

“How do you feel?”

“Good. Very good,” Anakin said. His tongue was sticky with left over arousal ready to be spent again. “You?”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m a little hot. I don’t usually have full grown men in my lap.”

“Oh? You want me to move?”

“Not necessarily. I think I can get used to this temperature.”

“Do you now?” Under his robes, Anakin burned. Perhaps at this moment, this one singular second, the comfortable clutch Obi-Wan held him in was perfect but it wouldn’t hold for long; so much of him wanted more. Anakin pulled himself upright, shook his hair from where it had stuck to his cheeks with sweat.

“Do you regret this?” he asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan said. “Hm. Maybe. You’ll have to ask me again in the morning.”

Hands inside Anakin grasped his guts and shook them in violent tugs. He needed solid answers. He needed to hear Obi-Wan tell him how there were no others beyond Anakin. He wanted their wholeness recognized aloud by the only person it would ever matter from. Obi-Wan noticed the twisting of Anakin’s expression and his palms became heavy where they sat on Anakin’s hips.

“I’m only joking,” he said and then, softer. “Anakin. Of course, I don’t regret it.”

“Of course,” Anakin repeated. “I think I’m tired, Obi-Wan.”

“Right. You’re tired. Well, I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.”

“No,” Anakin said and languidly stood up. Eyes remaining in a contest with Obi-Wan’s, he walked backward until he hit the edge of Obi-Wan’s bed and sat down. “Come over here. Sleep with me.”

“Anakin.” Frustration laced itself through Obi-Wan’s voice. From up on the bed, Anakin perched himself with robes hanging loose enough that his chest was entirely visible, including his binder. “You’re still in your binder? How long have you had that on?”

“I don’t know.” Anakin shrugged. “Since this morning, probably.”

“That’s— that’s unsafe and you know it!”

“Then come do something about it,” Anakin said. He dropped back on his elbows and gave Obi-Wan a dagger of a grin. “I’ll take it off when you come get in bed. Deal?”

A volley of decisiveness played out over Obi-Wan’s face before his mouth tightened. He came up to the bed and hung his body over Anakin’s. The auburn fringes of his hair, displaced by earlier activities, fell and created shadows on his face. He was, for a moment, the only thing Anakin could see.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said.

“You’re not in the bed yet,” Anakin replied. Obi-Wan swung one leg up and over Anakin’s hips. He straddled them, head tilted at a curious angle which left Anakin searching for the lights of his eyes. Twin blossoms of pink rose on his cheeks.

“Now,” he said. “Take it off.”

“Alright.” Anakin squirmed until he sat up straight and started to curl his fingers under his robes. He paused. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“I said turn around. I don’t want you to see.”

“Oh, for Force’s sake.” Obi-Wan dragged a hand down his face. “I’ve seen you without it before.”

“Please.” The word came quietly from his lips but it was enough to make Obi-Wan look away. He scrambled to take his tunic off and then, more cumbersome, peeled his binder off. The process was as arduous as ever but the relief as the tight fabric slid off blurred over his struggle. Tossing it off, Anakin pulled his tunic back on, leaving his tabards off to the side.

He paused in his rush to regard Obi-Wan from behind. The back of his neck was a curve of bone and skin, transfixing in its simplicity. Anakin longed to spay out his entire hand over Obi-Wan’s neck and squeeze. A violent image struck him, then, of his own hands throttling Obi-Wan until his body went limp. He recoiled from the thought, body shuttering with regret for an action he’d not yet performed.

“You can turn back,” he said. With nervous fingers, he reached out and patted Obi-Wan on the shoulder.

“Thank you for the permission,” Obi-Wan said. He’d been holding his hand over his eyes and, when Anakin touched his shoulder, he let it fall down. Warm palmed, he rested his hand on Anakin’s thigh. “Is this alright?”

“It’s great,” Anakin said.

“You would tell me, wouldn’t you? If this was too much?”

“Master.” Anakin leaned up and took Obi-Wan’s face in his hands. “Obi-Wan. If you asked me a thousand times, I would always say yes.”

“Then I will continue,” Obi-Wan said. “Any requests on where I touch you?”

“I have some ideas.” Breathless, Anakin press his lips to Obi-Wan’s. The kiss sparked into his belly a fierce wanting. Obi-Wan’s hand came up his thigh until it reached the v of his open legs. There it stopped. Fingers like a vice contracting around his upper thigh, Obi-Wan used his grip to pull Anakin’s leg up and hook it over his hip, yanking Anakin forward until he slammed into Obi-Wan’s pelvis.

“I’ve got a few ideas of my own,” Obi-Wan said.

“Seems like it,” Anakin said, words echoing through their parted mouths as the kiss deepened. “Do you— Will you—“

“Yes.”

Anakin didn’t need to say what he asked for. He never had to utter a word. The silence was a million conversations between them held only in their bond. As the space between them became a thing of imagination, his skeleton electrified and Anakin bit Obi-Wan’s lip.

“More,” he whispered. “I need more.”

“Anything.”

Anakin shook with the Force, rattled with its power flowing through the dance of their bodies. There were many options in front of him, many things he could ask of Obi-Wan, but he only knew one which satisfied him. A singular and needful thing that was all Anakin had ever wanted from anybody.

“Love me,” he demanded. “Love me, please.”

Obi-Wan bent him back until his shoulder blades were cushioned by the bed. He moved from Anakin’s mouth to his jaw line and scraped his teeth on the bony skin there.

“You’re going to the death of me,” Obi-Wan said. The words etched themselves in kisses across the underside of Anakin’s jaw. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Anakin said, satisfied. “Would you have it any other way?”

“No.” Obi-Wan dug his fingers deep into Anakin’s thigh. “I suppose I wouldn’t.”

Anakin grasped Obi-Wans upper arms. What little space lived between them was full of certainty. Doubt ceased to exist. Everything flowed through their bond in long waves and this magnified each touch until they burst like spurts of lava— hot and dangerously beautiful.

“Obi-Wan?”

“Anakin.”

“Will you fuck me?”

“Anything,” Obi-Wan said. He got up from the bed and from a separate chest of drawers pulled out his dildo and harness. Anakin slid his pants down as Obi-Wan hooked the dildo to the harness. While he did so, Anakin watched him. His total concentration made Anakin’s throat catch; of course, Obi-Wan would remain the perfect Jedi even while rummaging for lubricant. Obi-Wan paused in his search and glanced at Anakin.

“Shoes,” he said and Anakin realized his boots were still on. Breaking his stare, he kicked the boots to the floor along with his pants. Naked from the waist down, the air was suddenly cool on his skin. Reality set in as Obi-Wan stood before him, the lubricant in one hand as he climbed back on the bed.

 _Force,_ he thought, _Obi-Wan is going to fuck me._

Their eyes met and it struck Anakin that Obi-Wan wanted this as much as he did: a need for connection which mirrored the swirling ocean within him. Twin strings of gold bound them to each other.

“That’s quite a cock you’ve got there.” Anakin pointed at Obi-Wan’s dildo, a long pale pink phallus. Obi-Wan gave it a thoughtful rub.

“I quite like it,” he said. “Does the job.”

“Then come over here,” Anakin said. Achingly, he spread his legs wide open. “And get the job done.”

Obi-Wan settled between Anakin’s split legs and, without warning, leaned in to kiss him, long and languid, on the mouth. His tongue swiped along Anakin’s bottom lip, breaking away only to come back with smaller, needful kisses. Then he moved downward, kissing the tiny red dot from his earlier injection. He dragged his lips to Anakin’s bent knee and gave it a gentle bite. Anakin squirmed, each brush of Obi-Wan’s lips sending a shock wave through his system. Obi-Wan shut his eyes and leaned his cheek against Anakin’s leg. He remained there, still as an untouched lake.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “I’ve never felt the way I do with you with anyone else. Anakin, you must know how incredibly important you are to me.”

“Am I?” A vast hunger roiled in Anakin’s belly at the words.

“More so than many, many things,” Obi-Wan whispered with a voice that implied this secret had torn a piece of his heart as it was spoken. He opened his eyes and Anakin reached forward to bring his face to his own. Placing a small kiss on the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth, he held his cheek with a steady hand.

“You’re important to me too,” he said. His heart stuttered in a frantic rhythm, afraid the words would jumble themselves. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d manage.” Obi-Wan gave him a joking smile but Anakin’s blood ran could at the suggestion that Obi-Wan might ever disappear from his side.

“Never,” he said. “Without you I’d—“

“I know,” Obi-Wan said.

He took the lube and began to slick his cock. Their gazes never broke from each overs. Inside Anakin, waves of attraction crashed against his heart.

“Are you ready?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Beyond ready.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan guided himself into Anakin, who hissed at the stretch. His foot flexed in an effort to contain the vibrations of discomfort the intrusion inspired until Obi-Wan had slid to the hilt.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Anakin squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself a moment before answering. Settling into his situation, the sensation of being filled grew thrilling and now that stillness with which Obi-Wan held became maddening. Eyes open, he breathed heavily and rocked into the cock inside him.

“Yes,” he said. “Move.”

Obi-Wan obeyed and pulled away only to push back in right after. A quick rhythm built up a sweet pressure behind Anakin’s eyes. At first awkward, their movements fell in sync with each others. Beyond the emotional, beyond the physical, there was only them: Anakin and Obi-Wan. The Team. Nothing else existed besides their bodies and their presence in the Force.

“Harder,” Anakin demanded.

A hand came up to grip his leg, lift it and hook it over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. His thrusts sped up and each one slammed home. An ache formed in Anakin’s belly, the pressure from behind his eyes moving south to join it. Obi-Wan made sounds hot like the Tatooine suns which Anakin echoed with great ferocity. Moans dripped from his lips, growing louder and louder each time he met Obi-Wan’s movements. He dropped his head back and Obi-Wan dove down to attack his neck with tender bites. The pressure, hot and unyielding, pulsed through Anakin’s body.

“Force,” Obi-Wan breathed. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” Anakin said. He gasped as Obi-Wan ran his tongue up his throat and brought his hands up to lock at the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. “Fuck, Obi-Wan, I need it. I need you.”

Obi-Wan’s thrusts became stuttered and erratic. His limbs shook as did Anakin’s did and they pressed against each before Anakin’s mind went white in a release.  Racked by his own brilliant waves of pleasure, Anakin’s eyes went wide open to watch Obi-Wan shutter violently through one, final thrust before collapsing onto Anakin’s belly.

Laying a mechanical hand against it, Anakin brushed Obi-Wan’s hair with his fingers. Soft sighs replaced hard groans as the song of the room. They lay there, letting their breath become even and their bodies slack. A subtle feeling of comfort bloomed in the back of Anakin’s mind and he hummed. Obi-Wan remained inside him and eventually, Anakin’s lower half protested the still there phallus.

“Hey,” Anakin said. “Obi-Wan, you need to pull out.”

“Hm?” Obi-Wan looked up from where his head rested.

“Your cock. It’s still in me. I need you to pull out.”

“Oh!” Obi-Wan sat up and slipped out of Anakin. He took off the harness, rubbing his hips where it had sat tightly. “Is that better?”

“Much.” Anakin pushed himself forward. He faced Obi-Wan, taking in his flushed pink face and shining eyes. His hair had gone dark from sweat and clung to his forehead. Something about him glowed with youth. That glow entranced Anakin. He leaned further forward to set his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan returned his previous favor and ran his hand through Anakin’s curls.

“Was that enough?” Obi-Wan asked. “Did you feel loved?”

“I felt incredible,” Anakin said. “I felt you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes,” Anakin said. “A million times yes. I felt everything, Obi-Wan, including love. Every inch of me could feel it. We were together.”

“I felt the same,” Obi-Wan said. “It was like the world had become a small hole and all I could see through it was you.”

Face pressed into Obi-Wan’s collarbone, Anakin’s tiredness truly fell on him and his eyes drooped. He yawned and Obi-Wan chuckled above him.

“You’re slumping, my love.” Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around Anakin’s back and pulled him closer. “Go ahead. Take a rest. You deserve it.”

And so Anakin drowsed, letting light fade into the dark of sleep. His mind wandered into thoughts of the hand in his hair, the chest under his cheek and the name he’d been called. _My love._ It sent a curl of warmth through him and Anakin let that guide him down into dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> did you like my gay trans fictions? i hope you did. if you liked that, you might also enjoy my [tumblr](http://avoidfilledwithcelluloid.tumblr.com/)


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